BROADBENT [scared and much upset]. On my word I believe I am,
Miss Reilly. If you say that to me again I shan't answer for
myself: all the harps of Ireland are in your voice. [She laughs
at him. He suddenly loses his head and seizes her arms, to her
great indignation]. Stop laughing: do you hear? I am in earnest--
in English earnest. When I say a thing like that to a woman, I
mean it. [Releasing her and trying to recover his ordinary manner
in spite of his bewildering emotion] I beg your pardon.

NORA. How dare you touch me?

BROADBENT. There are not many things I would not dare for you.
That does not sound right perhaps; but I really--[he stops and
passes his hand over his forehead, rather lost].

NORA. I think you ought to be ashamed. I think if you were a
gentleman, and me alone with you in this place at night, you
would die rather than do such a thing.

BROADBENT. You mean that it's an act of treachery to Larry?

NORA. Deed I don't. What has Larry to do with it? It's an act of
disrespect and rudeness to me: it shows what you take me for. You
can go your way now; and I'll go mine. Goodnight, Mr Broadbent.

BROADBENT. No, please, Miss Reilly. One moment. Listen to me. I'm
serious: I'm desperately serious. Tell me that I'm interfering
with Larry; and I'll go straight from this spot back to London
and never see you again. That's on my honor: I will. Am I